Beginning Again Ch. 04

She gracefully lowered herself to her knees next to the bed.

"I want your cock," she said softly but loud enough to be heard in the kitchenette.

She didn't have to force the words, didn't need to dress them in exaggerated, lusty moans. She'd grown past the need for artifice. Her words now were the simple truth.

She did want his cock.

Wanted to feel it in her mouth, hot against her tongue. Wanted his taste and his scent. Wanted to use her lips and tongue and throat to pull eager, desperate moans and gasps from deep inside him. To feel his fingers in her hair. To become, even for a brief time, his entire universe. Just as he had become hers.

She heard him toss the newspaper aside, push the chair back from the table and approach her. The rustle of clothing being removed. His heat and closeness, and the creak of the mattress as he sat facing her.

She reached out and found his bare leg with her fingers, then followed it up to his knee, then along his inner thigh. Her hand closed gently over his hot shaft; he was already erect. She loved that even the sight of her body could bring him to full arousal, that he found her sexy and enticing.

She started low, at his scrotum, licking and kissing. Hot breath on his thighs, on his balls. She moved higher, her wet tongue making long, unhurried strokes from the base to the tip of his cock. Lingering at the top, swirling her tongue over the sensitive nerves there before beginning again at the bottom of his shaft. She was rewarded with his appreciative groan.

With Mac, blow jobs were so different. Not a duty, but a pleasure. She didn't want to rush him; didn't want it to be over too soon. She focused on every stroke, on making it good for him.

After a slow build-up she wrapped her mouth around the head of his cock and slowly slid down, her lips tight around his shaft, taking him deep into her hot mouth in one long, leisurely stroke. He gasped; she knew he loved the feel of being fully embedded in her mouth and throat. She slowly pulled back, lifting her eyes, hoping he was staring down into them.

Very soon she could tell he was getting closer to orgasm; his hips would roll forward on her down-stroke, his breathing became harsh and a soft grunt would issue each time she took his full length. One of the joys of serving just one man was the chance to learn him well, to read the signals from his body and to understand what they meant. And in just two weeks she had mastered the subtleties of Mac's responses to her.

"I want you to do my ass," she whispered, flushing at the lewd words, hardly believing that she'd spoken them aloud.

"I'd rather do your pussy," he said. She heard the urgency in his voice and took it as a compliment.

She came off his cock and resumed a slow licking up the shaft while gently cupping his scrotum in her fingers and caressing that sensitive skin.

"Mmm. I love your cock in my pussy. But tonight, I need you in my ass, Mac."

"Why?"

"Well...you remember you said we can't change the past, only move forward?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I want to let go of my past. To turn the page," she continued to run her tongue up and down his erection, looking up into his face all the while, "But there's a...mark. A stain that I can't ignore. A piece of me that Aden still owns. And I hate that -- I hate the idea that he should have a claim to any part of me."

"Nadja, he doesn't..."

"He does, Mac. I feel it inside me. Deep down I know there are pieces that belong to him. I won't have that. I want all those pieces to belong to you. I want you to take those parts of me back from Aden."

He continued to gasp and pant as she teased his rigid cock with her tongue, but didn't say anything. His silence lasted a minute.

"I know it sounds silly..." she started.

"No, not silly," he said quietly, "I get what you're saying. It's just...won't it hurt?"

"It will hurt," she conceded, "but that's okay. If that's the price, I'll gladly pay it."

"You know that's not what I want, right? To hurt you, I mean."

"I know. And knowing it makes me want this even more. Please?"

There was silence for a few moments.

"Okay, let's do it. What's the best way?" he said. She could tell by his voice that he wasn't sold on the idea of causing her pain with his cock and she felt a perverse swell of gratitude that he was willing to hurt her...for her sake.

"I'd like to lie on my back," she said.

Nadja expertly opened and slid a condom onto his cock, then applied a generous coating of lube. She repositioned herself on her back on the bed, legs spread and raised, exposing her rear hole to him. It was a terrible, vulnerable feeling, and one that brought back wave after wave of awful memories.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She'd endured this dozens of times in the past for lesser men. She could handle it once more, for Mac.

"Hold on to my cock. I'll let you control the action," he said as he positioned herself above her, between her wide-spread thighs.

She reached between her legs, gently gripped the base of his latex-covered shaft and guided the tip of his cock to her asshole.

"I'm ready," she said. Her voice sounded nervous and unconvincing, even to her.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Just...go slow, okay?"

"Keep your hand on me. You decide the speed."

She nodded, then pulled him forward. She felt the head of his cock pressing, pushing. She took another deep breath, tried to release, to unclench. This wasn't Aden, or some brutal, faceless john. This was Mac.

He slowly pushed past the ring of muscle, stretching her, opening her. And just like that, he was inside. She held him motionless, waiting for the excruciating ripping, the searing pain.

It didn't come.

She felt full and not entirely comfortable, but her discomfort didn't rise to the level of pain. She froze, not trusting the absence of hurt. Mac was still, letting her pick the pace.

"How is it?" he asked, and she was warmed by the concern in his voice.

"It's...fine," she replied, still not totally convinced.

Finally she gave a gentle pull and Mac pushed forward with the greatest restraint. She stopped him twice more, convinced the pain would come flooding back, but it never did. Soon she moved her hand and felt his pelvis press against her buttocks. He was in, all the way.

"All good?" he asked.

"Better than I'd hoped," she replied, "keep going."

"Okay. If it hurts, say so."

Mac began a very slow withdrawal until only the head of his cock was inside her, then pushed forward gradually. She relaxed and felt him fill her again, painlessly. It wasn't a good sensation -- it felt intrusive and threatening -- but it didn't hurt. For the first time ever, the cock in her ass didn't feel like it was ripping her apart.

She smiled then, relieved and restored. What Aden had claimed through violence and pain, Mac had captured with care and gentleness. That seemed so...right. So perfectly fitting. She loved knowing that another piece of her had been taken away from Aden and now belonged to Mac.

"Can you come in me?" she asked.

"Not at this speed," Mac said. He was moving so slowly that each stroke took him five or six seconds. "Feels tight though."

"You can go a little faster," she offered.

"You sure this is how you want it tonight?"

She nodded her head. Her smile wouldn't leave her.

Mac picked up speed, each thrust controlled and measured. She closed her eyes and felt him. Her fear was fading; it was easy to stay relaxed and to accommodate his cock inside her.

As her nervousness disappeared, the sensations began to change. She listened to his rapid breathing, his gasps. Felt his muscles as they flexed and moved, powerful yet restrained. Scented him -- his unique soap-and-maleness smell that had somehow become both familiar and trusted in so short a time. Felt his command of her body and his enjoyment of it.

It seemed she enjoyed anal sex as much as she did any other kind. In a flash of understanding she realized it didn't matter where he penetrated her because his cock wasn't the source of her pleasure. It was the joining itself, the act of feeling him, of losing herself in the experience and in the essence of who he was. Becoming part of the man she wanted and trusted. Releasing herself into his care, certain that no harm would come to her.

"Still okay?" he asked. She heard him fighting for control of his voice and his lust.

She opened her eyes and nodded. "It feels good. Better than I could have dreamed."

"Jesus, you're tight."

"You can go faster, Mac. Come inside me. Please," she whispered.

Suddenly he gave four long, rough thrusts into her welcoming rear passage and came, his cock pressed deeply inside her, his muscles locked, his breath caught in his chest.

Her smile broadened as she savoured his orgasm, sharing his pleasure. She gave a few tentative squeezes with her ass, trying to make it tighter around his shaft.

As his climax subsided, he lowered himself to his elbows above her, his partial weight pressing her into the mattress. She welcomed that, too. His weight, his warmth. His bare chest, damp with exertion. His muscular arms on either side of her head. She felt enclosed, protected. Safe.

Her stretched rear hole ached a little but she didn't want him to move. Not yet, anyway. She wanted to feel him inside her a while longer.

"Thank you, Mac," she whispered, her lips close to his ear.

"That was..." he gasped, his words trailing off as he tried to recover his breath.

"It was wonderful. I want to try this again soon. It felt really good."

"Really?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," she said, then laughed. She felt free, unbound.

They lay quietly for a few minutes, then rose together and decided to share a shower.

It was there, surrounded by steam and spray and soapy scents, with Mac rubbing her back with a rough washcloth, that the question first struck her.

Was she falling in love with Mac?

Or maybe...had it progressed beyond that point? Was she already in love with him? Was that possible, as damaged as she was, and in just a couple of weeks?

Surely not -- there were other possibilities to explain the trust and affection she felt for him. Like...gratitude toward her rescuer, for having saved her and for treating her well. Also, she was in a position of dependence; she relied on him for her survival -- that might be easy to mistake for love. Or maybe after four years of Aden's abuse she was confusing the simple absence of hatred for a symptom of love.

Somehow, though, none of those reasons allowed her to fully dismiss the possibility that she loved Mac. The more she considered it the more the idea appealed to her -- the thought that maybe she was a person who was still capable of loving someone.

And that maybe, against all odds, Mac was that person.

**